


Anniversary Arrangements

by scarlettcat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-24
Updated: 2011-10-24
Packaged: 2017-10-24 22:15:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/268458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarlettcat/pseuds/scarlettcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco and Hermione have a yearly arrangement. Ron finds out about it in a shocking way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anniversary Arrangements

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the H&V Anniversary Challenge celebrating ten years of Dramione.

“Mmmm, you smell like apples,” murmured Malfoy, nuzzling her neck and giving her one last bite to remember him by.

“Strawberries,” Hermione couldn't help correcting, pushing him off of her as soon as she realized what he was doing. The last thing she needed from tonight was a souvenir in the form of a hickey. She had absolutely no desire to listen to what her husband would have to say about it later. He could be a possessive git sometimes.

Brushing his thumb lightly across her lips, Malfoy responded in a husky voice, “Well, whatever it is, it's sexy.”

“It's an air freshener spell,” she replied tersely, turning her face away from him and slipping her cloak over her shoulders. It was time to go home. She wanted to get back so she could spend the rest of her anniversary with her husband. He may be an idiot at times, but she still loved him and what had happened tonight wasn't going to change that.

“Of course it is,” Malfoy sneered at her back. “Why would you bother with perfume like every other witch when you could cast an air freshener spell and scent the entire room? You always were the over-achiever. And what book did you use to study up on romance this time? _Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Spells_?”

Hermione whipped around and scowled at him. Malfoy was beginning to wear on her nerves. He was really only tolerable in small doses. And even then, only when they were having sex. “Well, it's more romantic than whatever that other smell was. And besides, I hardly think you had romance on your mind when you picked this place out,” she said, looking distastefully around their room at the Hog's Head Inn. “If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to offend me. Just because we're having an affair doesn't mean you have to turn it into something sleazy. Maybe next year, you can not be an asshole for once and find someplace nicer for our rendezvous.”

“Maybe, Granger,” replied Malfoy dismissively, zipping up his pants. Clearly, he wasn't going to get any more action here tonight. If he wanted more sex, it was obvious he was going to have to get it at home. Maybe he could talk his wife into giving him a blow job when he got back. Romantic or not, that frigging air freshener spell was making him hard.

While Malfoy was calculating his odds on whether or not his wife would actually give him a blow job, Hermione was working on an exit strategy. Unfortunately, that was turning out to be a little more difficult than she thought it would be. She was having a real moral dilemma, and for once in her life, she was at a loss for words. While she may be the “other woman” in this particular scenario, she was still Hermione Granger, and she didn't want to come off as a bad person. She definitely didn't want to think of herself as the lying, cheating whore type of adulteress. She imagined her circumstances were more complex than that. The question was, what could she possibly say after sleeping with another woman's husband that was nice? “Well,” she began awkwardly, “tell Astoria and the kids I said hi.” The minute it came out of her mouth, she was pretty sure that wasn't it.

“I will,” said Malfoy, giving her his trademark smirk. “And tell Weasel he can go fuck himself.”

Hermione gritted her teeth. She wished he'd get over this stupid vendetta he had with Ron. It was getting old. “Right. Until next year then?”

“Until next year.”

Hermione stopped by the Hog's Head's less than clean bathroom on her way out to freshen up and remove any telltale signs that Malfoy may have left behind before she Flooed home. As she washed her hands in the off color water, she stared at herself in the mirror, not recognizing the woman she saw there. If someone would have told her on her wedding day that ten years later she'd be meeting Draco Malfoy at a shady inn to have sex, she would have laughed in their face. And now look where she was. The frigging Hog's Head Inn. The seediest place in all of Great Britain. If the sex wasn't so great, she would have told Malfoy to go fuck himself.

Wearily, Hermione stumbled out of her fireplace and silently crept to her bedroom to change into her night clothes. Normally, she would have showered first, but she was exhausted. Malfoy had been relentless. She looked over at her husband lying in bed and shook her head. It figured he'd already be asleep. Quietly, she did a quick Tergeo on herself and climbed in next to him.

“You're home late,” he mumbled, turning over and snuggling in next to her.

“Sorry,” she replied, trying to sound as though she really meant it. “My prick of a boss was really riding me hard tonight.” She smirked in the dark.

“You shouldn't let him get up your ass like that,” was the reply she got.

“No, I probably shouldn't,” she agreed wryly.

Hermione burrowed her head into his shoulder. It was good to be home. It was... comfortable. Even a wild night having unbridled, adulteress sex couldn't compare to it.

“So, you want to have boring, married sex now?” Her husband always was a good Legilimens.

“I thought you'd never ask,” she purred seductively.

“Happy Anniversary,” he murmured, kissing her earlobe.

“Happy Anniversary, darling,” whispered Hermione, giving him a long, slow kiss.

“Did you enjoy your anniversary gift? I bet Malfoy was a good fuck.”

Hermione thought about her sordid evening at the Hog's Head that her husband had so generously given her. She shrugged. “I've had better.”

“You'd better mean me,” he said jealously.

“Of course I mean you. Now, kiss me, you dolt,” said Hermione, straddling him and pressing her lips to his.

Possessively wrapping his arms around her, he lovingly returned her kiss. But before things could really heat up, he started shaking with laughter. “Tell Astoria and the kids I said hi? That was the best you could come up with? I thought we were going for angst and smut this time around. I about laughed my ass off when you said that. You were completely out of character.”

Hermione hit him hard in the shoulder in an effort to get him to stop laughing at her. “Shut up, Draco. I've never been the other woman before. What slutty thing was I supposed to say?” she huffed. “Something about your long, hard cock, no doubt.” Hermione was used to excelling in everything she did. She didn't like to do things poorly. It made her cranky. Even if it was only a stupid role playing game that was very much her husband's idea.

“Well, it never hurts to mention a bloke's long, hard cock, but I gave you all kinds of slutty things to say. Did you even read my script?” asked Draco exasperatedly, propping himself up on his elbows to glare at her properly.

“I told you we weren't using that script. Have you even heard of a Spell-Checking Quill? At one point, you even spelled my name wrong.”

“I was in a hurry.” Draco shrugged. And then he smirked. “And I might have been thinking with something other than my brain.”

“Well, apparently your dick doesn't know how to use a semicolon. There was also a severe shortage of commas, rampant run-on sentences, poor sentence structure...”

“Know-it-all,” coughed Draco into his hand.

Hermione gave him a withering look before continuing. “As I was saying, besides your apparent disregard for proper grammar of any kind, not to mention your creative use of arithmetic with regards to certain parts of your anatomy, you had me going on for three whole pages about the character flaws of my deadbeat, impotent husband who coincidentally just happened to be Ron.”

“Abusive, deadbeat, impotent husband,” corrected Draco, smiling smugly. “And poor. Don't forget poor.”

“Whatever.”

“At least I didn't kill him off this time. You know how I love coming up with creative ways to knock him off. I was thinking of a vicious attack of rabid Crumple-Horned Snorkack or maybe a Heliopath stampede.”

“Your self-control astounds me,” replied Hermione dryly.

“And you have to admit that my dialogue was witty, well paced and extremely realistic.”

Hermione snorted at that. “The bit about your hair was funny but hardly realistic.”

“I never said anything funny about my hair,” Draco said quite seriously. He was always serious about his hair.

Casting a Lumos, Hermione leaned over and opened her nightstand drawer. Reaching in, she pulled out Draco's crumpled up script and began leafing through it. When she found what she was looking for, she mockingly read aloud. “Don't touch the hair, Granger. I'm sure you're getting wet just thinking of running your fingers through my silky, orgasm-inducing, silvery, platinum-blond locks, but I just gelled it, and my hair-care products cost more than Weasel and his receding hairline make in a year.”

“All true statements,” replied Draco matter of factly, lovingly stroking back his hair. “The dig at Weasel was funny though.”

“Whatever.” There was really no point in arguing with him about his hair. It was rather nice. “The point is, your script sucked.”

“It was better than what you came up with. Astoria Greengrass?” Draco scoffed. “Like I would ever marry that stupid bint.”

“I only picked Astoria because she is totally the type of pureblood princess your mother would have picked out for you if you had been forced into an arranged marriage,” said Hermione defensively.

“Arranged marriage? I thought we were going to go with marriage law.”

“Don't be stupid. Marriage law doesn't even make sense.”

“It makes more sense than Astoria and isn't nearly as stupid,” muttered Draco. “I knew I should have just left out the plot entirely. You can never go wrong with porn.”

“Porn? Like that's something I would do,” huffed Hermione indignantly. “What happened to you being so concerned about me being in character?”

“It's porn. Who cares if you're in character or not? And with porn, Astoria wouldn't even make the epilogue. Because there is no fucking epilogue. It's porn!”

“Would you have preferred your mother pick Pansy?”

“God no! You know how she gives me nightmares. Pug-faced bitch. I'm glad I didn't really have to suffer through an arranged marriage. Mother apparently has horrible taste in wives.”

“And husbands,” Hermione couldn't help adding.

Draco rolled his eyes. “When are you going to let that go? So, he 'tried' to kill you a couple of times when we were kids. He said he was sorry.”

“He tried poisoning me just last summer!”

“If you're talking about that incident at the Malfoy chateau when we were on holiday in France, I think you're being a little over dramatic. It was just a bad case of food poisoning. And it was your own fault. You shouldn't have freed all of the house-elves. You could have at least kept the one that did the cooking. Father is helpless in the kitchen, and Mother is even worse,” said Draco with a shudder.

“Not freed Pippy? How can you say that! I thought you cared about the rights of house-elves. You even joined S.P.E.W. during seventh year. You have a button and everything.”

“I pretty much just joined to get in your pants.” Draco shrugged.

“I can't believe you!”

“What? I was the Slytherin prince, sex god extraordinaire, and you were the Gryffindor princess, everyone's favorite blushing virgin. What's not to get? And you are so fucking hot when you get riled up about a cause,” said Draco, running his hand up her leg. “Can I help it if my cock starts twitching whenever you get feisty?”

Hermione slapped his hand away. “You used house-elves to get sex!”

“Well, it sounds kind of bad when you put it like that.”

“Because it is bad. I should take back your button!”

“I don't think so. In fact, I completely disagree with you on this,” drawled Malfoy annoyingly.

“Of course you do. And why am I not surprised by that?” asked Hermione sarcastically.

“Because it's our thing.” Draco smirked. “We argue and then we have explosive, passionate sex. Sometimes I argue with you just to have the sex. But this time, you really are wrong. No matter what my reasons at the time, me joining S.P.E.W. was a good thing. A very good thing. In fact, it was the best thing that ever happened to me. It's what brought me to you. I love those fucking house-elves, and I'm keeping my damn button!”

“You're the only person I know who can turn being a cad into something charming and romantic,” grumbled Hermione. She couldn't help smiling just a little bit though. He may be a snarky bastard, but he really was awfully sweet. In his own Draco Malfoy kind of way.

“It's a gift,” he replied nonchalantly.

“Well, you should have used that gift of yours when you were deciding on the meeting place for our little affair tonight. The only romance I saw could have been scraped off the floor. My shoes are still sticky from it. I can't believe you chose the fucking Hog's Head.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, disbelief in his voice. “It was perfect. The gritty atmosphere. You coming in wearing that mysterious cloak and nothing else. Me taking you against the wall because I couldn't wait long enough to get you to the bed.”

“Thank Merlin for that. The bed was disgusting. Gritty is right.”

“Would you have preferred I chose Madame Puddifoot's? Because nothing says hardcore adultery like chintz, lace and a nice cuppa,” retorted Malfoy sarcastically.

“No, of course not. That's way too much fluff, even for me. I just would have chosen someplace a little less... dirty.”

“I don't know what you're complaining about. We did it in the shower too. Besides, I thought you liked dirty,” said Draco suggestively, slipping his hand up her nightgown to perform a little wandless magic.

“Mmmmm,” Hermione couldn't help agreeing. “Just the same, next year I'll be in charge of making the arrangements for our anniversary.”

“No way,” replied Draco, halting his romantic ministrations in protest and giving her a hard stare. “I am not going back to Hogwarts.”

“Stop using Legilimency on me! I can do it too, you know. And the answer is no, by the way. Blow jobs are for husbands who take take their wives to proper places to have sex on their anniversaries.”

“I wasn't using Legilimency. I don't have to read your thoughts to know what you're thinking,” said Draco in an amused voice, although he was a bit bummed about the blow job. “After ten years of marriage, I think I know you pretty well. And besides, you're completely predictable. Even an idiot like Weasel could have guessed you would pick Hogwarts.”

“Ron is not an idiot, and I am not predictable,” huffed Hermione.

“You always pick Hogwarts,” he pointed out.

“Well, yes,” admitted Hermione, “but because I'm practical not because I'm predictable. Hogwarts has a lot of options.”

“Practical,” snorted Draco. “That's even more boring.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows. “I don't seem to recall you thinking the Forbidden Forest was all that boring. I wasn't the only one screaming that night. Shall we spend our anniversary getting lost in the woods again?”

“Fuck no! That was terrifying. We're definitely not doing that one again. Fucking spiders.”

“You sound like Ron.” Hermione laughed.

Draco glared.

“Oh, I know!” exclaimed Hermione excitedly, completely ignoring his bad attitude. “I still have some of your godfather's hair left. We could...”

“Forget it. Not happening.”

“Why not?” asked Hermione with a hint of disappointment in her voice. That had been her favorite anniversary. She had gotten to act out a schoolgirl fantasy and brew a perfect Draught of Living Death. “I thought you liked playing detention last time. You said you liked me in my school uniform. You said it was hot having sex on Professor Snape's desk.”

“It was. Until Dumbledore caught us. I ended up having to sit through a long ass lecture from him about the inappropriateness of sexual relations between teachers and students.”

“I'm sure he knew it was us,” Hermione replied indifferently. “He was probably just messing with you.”

“If you were so sure he knew it was us, then why did you high tail it out of there?”

“Because it was embarrassing.”

“Not as embarrassing as being propositioned by Dumbledore,” mumbled Draco under his breath.

“Professor Dumbledore's not gay!”

“He plied me with lemon drops and kept looking at my crotch with twinkling eyes. While he was sucking on an Acid Pop, no less. You can't tell me that's not gay.”

“You're delusional.”

“Maybe,” said Draco, not convinced.

“What about the library? I'm sure Madame Pince has forgotten all about that little incident in the Restricted Section by now. We could...”

“No,” Draco said adamantly, feeling a shiver go down his spine. “That was even scarier than the Forbidden Forest. I am not going back to Hogwarts, especially not the library, and that is final.”

“Not even for Head Boy/Head Girl? I'll let you take me in the corridor during rounds,” she said temptingly.

“Last time we did that you couldn't restrain yourself from docking points from every student we caught out after curfew. We only had time for a quickie in the broom closet. And a broom up the ass isn't as romantic as it sounds.”

“Well,” said Hermione, thinking out loud, “there's always trick stair, Room of Requirement, Shrieking Shack, prefects' bathroom, unused classroom, house unity project, potion's accident...”

“Been there, done that.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “How about something with unresolved sexual tension?” she suggested threateningly. “We haven't tried that yet.”

“Pftt!” scoffed Draco. “Unresolved sexual tension is for losers like Weasel.”

Hermione glared.

“Besides,” continued Draco, “you couldn't not resolve it.”

“You want to bet?”

“Yes, I do. And the loser, that would be you, has to be the winner's slave for a month.”

“What universe are you living in?” asked Hermione sarcastically. “I help free enslaved creatures for a living. Do you really think I'd actively consent to participating in a slave/master type relationship?”

“I think you're missing the point. In a slave/master relationship, consent is dubious at best.”

“As long as we're throwing out ridiculous ideas,” snapped Hermione. “How about me finding out I'm really a pureblood? Maybe I could be Blaise Zabini's long lost sister. And we're royalty. Or better yet, you could be a veela, and I could be your reluctant mate.”

“Ooh, banging an Italian princess. That could be hot.”

Hermione gave Draco a funny look. “Blaise Zabini isn't Italian.”

“Yes, he is.”

“No, he isn't.”

“Zambini was my best friend at Hogwarts,” insisted Draco. “I think I would know.”

“You didn't even know who he was until sixth year, and his name is Zabini not Zambini.”

“Really? Huh. Well, it still sounds Italian. And while we're on the subject, Blaise totally sounds like a girl's name. In fact, I kind of thought he was a girl until sixth year. Otherwise I wouldn't have accepted that dare to kiss him in the Great Hall Polyjuiced as Weasel. Good thing I couldn't actually stomach Weasel hair myself. Funny, Crabbe never mentioned anything though.”

“I don't even know how to respond to that.”

“Alright. So, Italian pureblood princess is out because Blaise had to fuck it up by not being Italian. And no lesbian fantasy either because he's not even a girl. Veela is still a legitimate option though.”

“Hardly.”

Draco looked offended. “I don't see what's so ridiculous about the veela scenario other than the idea of you being reluctant about being my mate. Because we both know, you would be all over me. I wasn't the Slytherin sex god for nothing,” Draco boasted.

“Slytherin sex god, my ass,” Hermione responded, rolling her eyes. “I wasn't the only blushing virgin at Hogwarts unless you've conveniently forgotten.”

“I haven't forgotten, but everyone has to have a first time,” replied Draco, completely unfazed. “Even sex gods.”

“And exactly how many girls did you sleep with to give you this sex god status?”

“Only one,” admitted Draco with a smile, “but I rocked her world.”

Hermione couldn't help smiling back at him. “Yes, you certainly did. And you still do,” she whispered in his ear, kissing him lightly.

“So, see? I'm irresistible. I could totally be a veela.”

“And I could straighten my hair, glamor it blond and suddenly get big boobs, but that's not going to happen either. Veela are female and last I checked, you don't qualify.”

“I didn't know veela were only female. Probably because I had a crap teacher for Care of Magical Creatures.”

“More likely because you were a crap listener,” retorted Hermione, glaring at him.

“Maybe,” Draco answered noncommittally. “Well, you could...”

“No. Absolutely not,” interrupted Hermione with finality in her voice. “Veela are mean and creepy, and the thought of turning into one of those horrible bird creatures and squawking your name when I orgasm completely freaks me out.”

“Fine. Don't get your feathers all ruffled,” Draco joked. “No kinky bird sex. Just promise me you'll never touch those cinnamon, honey, chocolate, molasses-colored curls of yours.”

“Shut up. Ron said that one time. And you and your orgasm-inducing hair should talk. At least Ron had a poetry hex to blame.”

“If it was really just a hex and not some other ulterior motive, then why didn't he say anything about my hair? Or how my eyes glisten like liquid pools of silver in the moonlight.”

“Probably because they didn't remind him of food,” said Hermione, her lips quirking into a smile. “Harry's eyes are like pickles.”

“And you wonder why they called you the Golden Threesome.”

“Golden Trio,” muttered Hermione, scowling. She hated those stupid rumors.

“Anyway, I like your hair the way it is, but I wouldn't say no to big boobs,” said Draco, squeezing her perfectly normal-sized breasts jokingly.

“Forget it,” she said, playfully pushing his hands away.

“Then you can forget Hogwarts,” returned Draco as though it were a deal breaker.

“If you really don't want to do Hogwarts, I suppose we could wear masks...”

“Ooh, kinky. I like it. Of course, you'd be shit at being a submissive. You never listen to me as it is, and I can't imagine you not being bossy in the bedroom. But I'm man enough to get spanked and like it. After all, I kind of got off on it that time you hit me third year. Had to run back to my room to wank. Weasel would probably cry and go limp. So, what are we talking? Whips? Chains? Leather things I don't know the names of...”

“Well, I was thinking a little more formal and a little less perverted. More like a masquerade ball.”

Draco made a face. “How about a drunken one night stand at the Leaky Cauldron instead?”

“Have you forgotten the last time we did that? We woke up the next morning naked together.”

“So?”

“With tattoos!”

“I like your dragon tattoo,” replied Draco, unable to hold in his smirk. “It's like having my name on your ass.”

“Narcissist,” said Hermione, rolling her eyes. “And how about the ferret one on yours? Was that like having your name on your ass as well?”

“You know I had that removed!”

“But it will always remain an amusing memory and fun anecdote for parties,” Hermione teased. “Although I think it's best if we stay away from anything that involves heavy drinking. That leaves out drinking games. How about something where I'm the Minister of Magic...”

“Now who's living in an alternate universe?”

Hermione pursed her lips in annoyance. “It was your idea to role play every anniversary,” she said crossly. “I would have been happy with dinner and flowers.”

“Dinner and flowers are for unimaginative saps like Weasel.”

“Do you always have to bring him up? Sometimes I feel like there are three of us in this relationship. And if I was interested in having a threesome, believe me, it wouldn't be with Ron.”

“Who would it be with? Potter? I bet it's frigging Potter. That pickle-eyed bastard,” spat Draco, starting to get broody.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Would you just shut up and kiss me? Next year you'd better find a place nicer than the Hog's Head though, or I just might Owl Harry. And Ginny.”

One year later...

“Can I take the blindfold off yet?”

“No. You'll ruin the mystery.”

“You feeling me up is no mystery,” grumbled Hermione.

“I thought you liked doing kinky stuff,” pouted Draco.

“I do. I just prefer to see it is all.”

“Well, I can't argue with that,” Draco said in amusement. “Besides, this will be much kinkier with your eyes open. You'll need to get naked first though.”

“Fine,” said Hermione, pulling her dress up over her head. She had purposely gone without knickers.

“Merlin, I love you,” breathed Draco, looking her up and down. “Maybe we should ditch the whole role playing thing this anniversary and have boring, married sex instead.”

“Who are you, and what have you done with my husband?” joked Hermione.

“Ha, ha. Drink this, and I'll show you,” he said mischievously, putting a flask in her hand.

“Alright. This better be good though.” Hermione took a drink and barely choked it down. Ripping off her blindfold the moment she recovered, she glared at her husband. Or rather, at a very naked Harry Potter.

“Oh, come on.” He laughed out loud. “I thought you always wanted to shag the great Harry Potter.”

“Who says I haven't already?” quipped Hermione, smirking at her husband.

“Are you trying to make me jealous?”

“Maybe.” Hermione looked around curiously. “At least this place is nicer than last year, and even better, it doesn't involve Ron. Where are we anyway?”

Draco's expression turned slightly guilty. “Well...”

“Bloody hell!”

Hermione's head whipped around at the sound of the familiar voice and his even more familiar catch phrase. With wide eyes, she watched her friend collapse to the floor in a dead faint. Warily, she looked down at herself and immediately recognized the long blond hair hanging past her shoulders. Looking up to glare at her husband, she asked, “Seriously?”

“I'm just having a bit of fun with him. I don't see what the big deal is,” said Draco, trying not to laugh. Outside of arguing and sleeping with his wife, tormenting Ronald “the Weasel” Weasley was his favorite thing to do. Draco was redeemed but not “that” redeemed.

“He thinks he just caught his wife with his best friend. You're lucky that he didn't Avada you,” reprimanded Hermione.

“The best he could have managed was a rubber chicken or a pair of underpants. I'm not an idiot. I switched his wand.”

Sighing, Hermione asked, “Why do you hate Ron so much?”

“I don't hate him. It's just... It could have been him that you ended up marrying,” admitted Draco, looking somewhat sheepish.

“But it wasn't. I fell in love with some other stupid prat, remember? And he married Luna. Ron and I are just close friends.”

“It's the close part that I don't like,” grumbled Draco.

Hermione sighed again. “I'm sure the Nargles are going to bite me in the ass later for telling you this, but you're kind of sexy when you're jealous.”

“Oh, yeah? Think we have time for a quickie?” he asked hopefully, pulling her in close and raising his eyebrows up and down suggestively.

Hermione looked down at Ron sprawled out on the floor and shrugged. “Yeah, probably.”


End file.
